Remembering You
by Yva J
Summary: Willy Wonka tells Charlie Bucket the story of his Uncle Benny, the man who inspired him to go into candy making. Tiny AU element included.


_Welcome to this little one shot. I wrote this with my grandmother in mind. She reminded me, even in death, of how we can still be inspired by those who have passed before us. I don't know if I wrote this for anyone inasmuch as I wrote it for me, but I figured that I would go ahead and post it here since the response to 'The Legacy' were so nice._

_I hope that you enjoy reading this, and I did like writing it. I love giving some of the ideas about Willy Wonka a history or a story, and the flashback was an idea that just hit like a ton of bricks when I was taking a break from my other stories last night._

_This is not a very long story, you don't even have to read the other story to get the gist of what is happening in this story. That is, this story could stand alone as just a reflective concept._

_Oh and yes, I know of the whole grandparents being bedridden for 20 years deal, but I could not let go of the imagery of Grandpa Joe helping him to learn to ride a bike. It's a tiny bit AU, but, hopefully, the overall feel of the story is still there. I simply ask that you please not get onto me about that one creative liberty._

_Here's hoping that you enjoy it, and if it speaks to you, then feel free to speak to me (that is, please review)._

* * *

**Remembering You**

Quasi Sequel to '_The Legacy'_

By: Yva J.

Although it had been several years since his grandfather had passed on, Charlie Bucket spent a great deal of time remembering Joe Crumpet nonetheless. He was not necessarily sad anymore about the fact that the old man was gone. Yet, the last remaining member of his family was now his mother. Although, he shared a lasting friendship with Willy Wonka, he was constantly reminded of how little he really knew of the eccentric candy maker.

While Charlie was glad that Willy was not going to leave him to contend with the factory on his own, he still contemplated how very little he knew of his mentor. Along those same lines, he pondered how afraid he was to even inquire.

On this particular day, the young man, now twenty-years-old, sat in his room digging through a number of papers and things. It was a sunny afternoon in April, but instead of being outside enjoying the fine spring day, he was focused on the things that had once belonged to his grandfather.

One of his prized possessions was now the cane that Joe had used the day before the Golden Ticket tour had happened. This object had found a place of honor in one corner of Charlie's large suite. It was not the same sort of cane that the chocolatier had carried during the tour, but somehow it held a great deal of significance nonetheless.

Charlie thought of his grandfather quite often, in fact, it was one of those good feelings, as though one remembers an event that stands out as opposed to feeling lost in misery of his absence. No longer was he saddened when he recalled the impact that his maternal grandfather had had on his life.

Smiling, Charlie dug through the box and unearthed an old photograph. It was of him when he had been six, and behind him, Grandpa Joe stood his hands on the handle bars of a pink colored bicycle. Charlie ran his hand across the old photograph as memories washed over him. He recalled how the bicycle had been found out behind his house in a ditch. No one had wanted it and had discarded it like an old shoe.

Of course, it was not designed for a young boy, instead, it was beat up and pink, but for a young boy who was living out his days encased in poverty, this was something of a novelty to him.

The young man, even some twelve years after the fact did not seem to care that the bicycle had been pink. He looked at his younger self but ran his hand over the image of the slanted bar that bent downwards instead going straight from the seat to the handle bars as most boys' bicycles did.

A small chuckle emerged as he stared at the picture, the grainy colors somehow blending together and lulling the young man back to the times in his life where innocence and youthful fantasy was the norm.

There was no question in his mind, Joe had been a great guy. Charlie remembered how he had held onto the bike until the boy had told him to let go. Of course, instead of him staying steady on the bicycle, the result had been a painful one. Not only had he crashed, but he had crashed into the neighbor's prized roses. The feeling of the thorns as they scratched over his skin were as real today as they had been all those years ago.

Of course, in hindsight, the entire escapade had been rather funny, even if Mrs. Clemens had not been the slightest bit amused.

A small smile stretched across the young man's face as a light tapping at the door brought him back down to earth. Standing up, he walked slowly over to the door and reaching out, he opened it. His smile broadened when he saw who it was that was standing on the other side.

"Willy," he said smiling as he took in the man who was now several centimeters shorter than him. Somehow, although everything around him had changed, Willy Wonka had not. He still carried what Charlie had come to dub as the 'Happily Ever After' look on his face, a smile that stretched from one side to the other.

As the chocolatier regarded the scads of papers that were spread across Charlie's room, he diverted his focus and offered his protégé a friendly smile. "Are you having a paper drive in here?" Willy asked teasingly, the smile never leaving his face.

"No," Charlie responded as Willy closed the door behind him and started to walk across the room towards the window and looked outside. "I've just been going through all these things again."

"Why would you do that on such a beautiful day as this?" Willy asked. He deposited his cane against the wall and turned away from the window, the light that shone inside from it highlighting his blond locks of hair.

"Like you should be asking me that? You haven't been outside in ages," Charlie chided.

Willy smirked. "Touché, Charlie." He went over to the sofa and sat down, his long legs stretching out in front of him. "So, why are you doing all of this?"

I don't know, I guess, I was just thinking about my grandparents and how great they were, especially…"

"…Grandpa Joe," Willy finished as he got to his feet, crossed the room, and stood before the young man, his hand coming to rest on his shoulder. As he looked at his pupil, he smiled. "You keep talking like that, then your words will becoming almost as predictable as mine are."

"Maybe," Charlie mused. "Willy, have you ever stopped and thought about someone in your family, a favorite grandparent, or someone who meant something to you? I mean; I seem to do that all the time, and it seems almost natural for me. Now, I'm just wondering if it's normal."

"I remember my mother's brother," Willy said. "I suppose you don't know very much about my family, do you?"

"You never mentioned them, but I guess all this time, I was sort of wondering if you even had a family," Charlie said.

"Oh Charlie, everyone has a family," Willy said. "They either are born into one and grow into adulthood loving and nurturing one another, or if they don't, so they seek out find one through the close friends that they find along the way. I just never found myself talking about them because I honestly didn't think you'd be interested in hearing some twisted tales of my past experiences."

Charlie looked at his mentor for some traces of light-heartedness, but found none. He watched as Willy once more went over to the sofa and sat down, his expression laced with earnestness. Instead of speaking, the chocolatier simply folded his hands across his lap and said nothing further.

"Tell me about your uncle, then," Charlie pressed. "What was his name?"

"His name was Benjamin," Willy said. "I used to call him 'Uncle Benny'. He was tall and seemed to always have great ideas. I suppose it was because he was always so nice to me and so when I spent time with him, I was very happy. I remember when I was about eight, he gave me some candy and told me that one does not live on fruit and vegetables alone. My father never knew of it. I wasn't about to tell him that Uncle Benny was the one who inspired me to want to become a chocolatier. If he had known, he'd have no doubt disallowed me from seeing and visiting with him."

"Willy, why didn't you ever mention him?" Charlie asked. "That just seems kind of strange, especially since he helped you to become such a great person."

Willy shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps some things are best kept inside, that way one can't get hurt by them."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked. "Do you think I'd say something that would hurt you?"

Willy shook his head. "I just didn't want you to come along and say that I was being sappy or too sugary sweet."

"I wouldn't," Charlie said. "I thought you knew that."

The chocolatier nodded. "Alright, I'll tell you. This all happened when I was about the same age as you were when you first came to the factory. I had just come back from school with a bloody nose. After Uncle Benny found me, we sat down on the ground at the park and while we were talking, I watched as the clouds formed into various shapes…

**Flashback 30 Years Ago**

It was a sunny day, strange how most days were not always sunny, but instead overcast. On this particular day, however, the sun was shining and the whiteness of the clouds hung overhead like cotton candy on a light blue taffy background.

Twelve-year-old Willy Wonka was walking home from school. He had just been in a fight with one of his classmates. His nose was bleeding, and as he walked, he constantly had a tissue pressed against his face.

The only thought going through his mind was that his prim and proper dentist father was going to feed him the riot act. One for getting his strange dental gear bent for what seemed like the umpteenth time, and two for getting into a fight.

"You can always talk your way out of these things," the older Wonka had often insisted. "You are not a hooligan, William."

These words seemed to echo in his mind as he approached the building where he and his father lived. His mother had died when he was seven, and so now it was just his high-strung father, Wilbur, and him, a boy with an imagination that could astound the greatest of skeptics.

Instead of trying to mess with the metal head gear that was affixed to his head, he tried instead to arrange his curly locks of blond hair. Perhaps with this apparatus, no one would notice that his hair was more mussed up than usual. Of course, one look at his bleeding nose, and they would know almost instantly that he had been in a schoolyard scuffle.

"Willy?" A voice soon emerged and he raised his head to see a man walking towards the steps where he now stood. This man wore the same hairstyle as the boy did, thus giving off the impression that he was the child's father as opposed to being a favorite uncle. His clothing was somewhat unconventional, as he was clad in what appeared to be a Victorian aged waistcoat and britches.

"Hi Uncle Benny," the boy mumbled as he took in his uncle's somewhat mystical appearance. Instead of unlocking the front door of his house and going inside, he came down the steps and found himself being wrapped in the arms of the strange and fascinating man.

Of course, there was no question in young Willy's mind, he could either stay outside with his fun loving uncle, or go inside and be witness to what was sure to be the longest afternoon of his young life.

"What happened to you?" Benjamin asked. "You look like you got into a battle of wits with someone and lost."

"Actually…I won the fight," Willy mumbled as his uncle led him down the street and in the direction of the park. As soon as they had found a patch of grass, the two of them sat down on the ground.

After some time had passed, Benjamin turned and looked at his nephew who had retrieved a small stick and was jabbing it against the ground.

"OK, slugger, then tell me what happened. Who was the kid who walked away with egg on his face?"

"Sam Slugworth," Willy mumbled. "He looks about a hundred times worse than me, but it's probably because he doesn't have a stupid cage over his face. Maybe there is something to be said for Papa's idea of keeping my teeth straight, but still I wish I could be normal like everyone else."

"Normalcy is overrated, Willy," Benjamin said, but nodded with understanding in his gaze. If truth were known, he hated the fact that his young nephew had to live with this as well. It seemed rather like torture, and so restrictive for a child of that age. Instead of elaborating on this, he took a deep breath, and spoke, his next words unrelated to dental hygiene. "So tell me what that Slugworth bloke was saying that irritated you," the older man said as he ran his hand through his curly hair.

"He was making fun of Paula Rae again, and I got fed up, so I let him have it," Willy said smugly. "He thinks he's so great just because his daddy owns a factory and makes candy. Don't tell Papa this, but I've tried Slugworth's candy, and it's terrible. If he really wanted to turn me off on candy, then that would be the way to go," Willy said and cringed. "It's really disgusting."

"What do you intend to do about this Slugworth bloke if he confronts you again?" Benjamin asked.

"I don't know," Willy said. "I wish I could do something that would put him in his place, though. I mean; I want to do something that will make him eat his arrogant words."

"Why don't you become a candy maker when you get older, Willy?" Benjamin suggested. "You've got the perfect name to market something, Willy Wonka. The way I see it, I would be willing to bet money that you could make something that puts those Slugworth boys to shame. You don't even have to fight them with your fists, you can outwit those nitwits in a non-violent way. Believe me, you have great potential, contrary to what your father says or thinks."

"Me? Make candy?" Willy asked.

"Sure, you know what's good, that's the first step to becoming great in any field," he said. "Just think about it. It would be a far cry better than trying to follow what your father would like. If he had his way, I could imagine about a hundred little kids roaming around London with batting cages over their heads," the older man said with obvious distaste. "Speaking of which, yours really looks as though it's been seriously rattled."

"I know, Papa's going to kill me, but a girl's honor was at stake," Willy said firmly. "Grandfather Wonka always said that a woman's honor should never be tossed to the wind."

"He was right," Benjamin said. "Well, maybe I can help you to not look as though you have been through a minor battle. Just make sure there is no blood on the metal lines in front of your nose." He dug in the pocket of his pants and extracted a cloth handkerchief.

Willy nodded as he accepted his uncle's offering and began to wipe it across the front of the cage as he glanced skyward.

At that precise moment, the clouds had somehow changed form, and he was seeing what looked to be one in the shape of a top hat. After watching it drift across the sky for several moments, he looked at his mother's younger brother. "Uncle Benny, what do you think of a top hat as an advertising slogan?"

"I think with ideas like that, you have the potential to become the greatest candy maker in the world." He smiled and nodded as he tried to ruffle the boy's hair.

The young boy grinned, but at that moment he glanced down at the handkerchief that he held in his hand. On the corner and stitched into the white colored fabric were the initials for his uncle's name, Benjamin Thompson.

A wave of respect washed over Willy as he regarded his uncle. He was going to one day become just what his uncle had predicted. Yet, what really surprised him was amidst the curvy lettering of his uncle's initials, something else was visibly sewn into the fabric of the handkerchief.

Willy strained his eyes to see it closer, and when he recognized what it was, a smile spread across the boy's youthful features.

Embroidered in the piece of cloth, a small orange and brown colored top hat was visible.

**Flashback End**

As Willy finished the story, Charlie was looking at him through wide eyes. He had never regarded his mentor with so much awe as he did at that moment. "Oh wow, Willy, your uncle was the one who inspired all this," the young man whispered.

"Yes, but sadly he died before I was able to finish the final scale of the factory," Willy said softly. "I don't know if he ever realized the impact he left on me, but something inside me insists that perhaps he knows. Just as I think your Grandpa Joe always knew that your dreams and ambitions will draw you into some rather great things."

Charlie looked at him. "Do you think that's true for me?"

"What? That you're destined for great things?" Willy asked. When Charlie nodded, he smiled as he reciprocated the nod. "If I didn't, Charlie, then I would never have suggested that you come here to live."

The teenager shrugged his shoulders. "I've made a lot of mistakes, though."

"You mean the fudge incident from last year?" Willy asked. When the teenager nodded he continued. "A tub of fudge exploding in the Inventing Room can happen to anyone. Of course, I will never forget how three Oompa Loompas looked rather like extra large chocolate covered Easter bunnies after that. Their wives were none too pleased with us, but we got through that without any troubles, right?"

Charlie shrugged his shoulders, but watched as Willy started to look around the room where they were now sitting. "Do you need any help with this stuff?" He asked as he noticed a large box on the floor amidst the papers.

"If you don't mind, I think I'd like the company. But, only if you have nothing pressing to tend to," Charlie said honestly.

"Not really, I just finished the final tests on the 'Ho-Hum Gum Drops'."

"That's good," the younger man said as he got to his feet and went over to sit down on the floor. He then picked up the picture that had been on the floor. His grandfather's smiling face looking back at him through the recesses of the photograph. "Do you know what I wish?"

"What?" Willy asked. "Aside from that general wish of yours to send Mr. Turkentide some exploding candy?"

"I wish that pictures could talk," Charlie mused. "You know, to look at a picture of someone and have them talk to you or just tell you that you're doing OK with your life. I mean; to get a message that tells me that I am doing something good with it and not wasting it on frivolities. I thought about this after my father died, and then when we were at the graveyard after Grandpa Joe's funeral. It was that day when you came and talked to me and promised me that you wouldn't leave."

"Why don't you believe it?" Willy asked. "I mean; you don't necessarily need that sort of confirmation from the great beyond, do you?" He raised his head and looked at his protégé.

"It's been over two years since Grandpa Joe died," Charlie said softly. "Sometimes, it feels like it only happened yesterday, and sometimes it seems so long ago."

"I know what you mean, with Uncle Benny, it was the same," Willy said as he cast a brief glance towards the picture of Charlie on the pink colored bicycle. "His death was very difficult for me, but I was able to honor him in ways that I didn't think was possible. Perhaps you can do the same through your creative mind and enthusiasm for our work." He extended the photograph to the younger man.

Charlie accepted the offered picture, his hand brushing over the grainy photograph once again. "Willy?"

"Yes?"

"Would you tell me more about your life?" He asked. "I mean; you've never really talked about yourself, yet you could probably pick out who my ninth class literature teacher was in a lineup."

"I'd like to, but I can't really talk much about how my family was because aside from Uncle Benny, they were not always very nice," Willy said casually.

"They weren't?" Charlie asked.

Willy shook his head. "It was mostly my father and me for many years. He left before I opened the factory, so I don't always make mention of him. All that you need to know about him is that he was not like Uncle Benny. He didn't want me to make candy at all."

"He didn't?" Charlie asked. He could hardly believe his ears, in fact, it was clear as the nose on Charlie Bucket's face, that there was no way that he could have imagined Willy Wonka doing anything _but_ making candy.

"What did he want you to do?" He eventually asked, all the while not quite certain he really wanted to hear the answer.

"As Uncle Benny surmised, my father wanted me to become a dentist like him," the chocolatier said without so much as a trace of shyness.

"I can't imagine you as a dentist, Willy," Charlie said.

"Nor can I. It just goes to show that children should always follow their hearts when it comes to deciding what to do with their lives. One should never live for the sake of another."

"I'm glad you went into candy making, Willy," the young man said softly.

"So am I, Charlie," Willy said smiling.

"And I'm glad that you're teaching me to do what you do," Charlie said. "You're the best friend I've ever had."

"You're not doing any of this because of me, are you?" Willy asked.

"No, I'm doing it because I think from the first moment I walked by the factory, that this was what I wanted to do too," he said and smiled. "You had your uncle to guide you, and I have you and Grandpa Joe."

"Thank you, Charlie," Willy smiled as he reached for one of the pieces of paper that was on the floor.

"Willy, I do have an idea for those Ho-Hum Gum Drops you mentioned earlier. I mean; it's just an idea on what we could call them. Ho-Hum seems a bit ho-hum if you want my honest opinion," Charlie said.

"What's your idea?"

"Why don't we call them 'Uncle-Benny's Gum Drops'?" Charlie said. "It seems fitting since you told me about him on the same day that you finished the tests on the invention."

Willy Wonka smiled and nodded. "That's a great idea," he said, and instead of letting Charlie embrace him, the chocolatier embraced his protégé.

The End.


End file.
